


So We Meet Again

by avalescence_hurlocked, CheesePie30



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Knight!Jean, M/M, Prince!Marco, Side-Eremin, Side-Levihan, Side-Springles, Side-Yumikuri, Unbelievable density of two dorks, Ymir and Marco as the freckled twins, kingdom au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1788997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalescence_hurlocked/pseuds/avalescence_hurlocked, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheesePie30/pseuds/CheesePie30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bodt is the prince of Trost, with an evil twin sister, crazy parents, and an otherwise normal life.</p>
<p>Jean Kirschtein is a commoner-turned-knight, with many honors, a high rank in the force, and an otherwise normal life.</p>
<p>These two were once childhood friends, believe it or not. But when a rebel attack forced Jean to abandon his friendship with Marco, the prince thought he'd lost him. </p>
<p>Marco never thought Jean'd be coming back with a vengeance to right his wrongs. The wrongs being him not telling Marco he loved him sooner. </p>
<p>Because really, who wouldn't fall in love with a freckled boy who just makes your heart skip for all the right reasons at all the wrong times?</p>
            </blockquote>





	So We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> hi okay so this is my first fic on this site, so I hope you guys like it. I really hope.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday adventures can be tough, especially if the only person you want to spend time with probably doesn't remember you exist.

The first time I met him, I was twelve.

I didn’t know how the world worked, but I had a sliver of how it did. At least, I thought I did. I thought that the kingdom was well-protected and that I was safe. Ha, yeah right.

I was twelve when the rebels attacked. They set fire to the village, and my dad, the king, had to go give orders to the knights and general. My mom comforted my sister, Ymir and I, while the war waged outside. I sincerely thought people couldn’t be this horrible, and that whoever waged wars were monsters.

I was partially right, at least.

The rebels didn’t approve of my dad as king, apparently, as he wasn’t the supposed heir. But he was a much better ruler than his brother, who was exiled for corruption. The rebels were allies of my uncle, so they thought he was the good guy and my dad was the bad one. It was such a longshot; I couldn’t believe they fell for his lies.

The villagers whose houses were burnt up were in the castle’s main room, where they were supplied with blankets and hot soup. My mother offered a place to stay, and naturally they took the offer. They lost so much they couldn’t bear to lose any more.

My mother led my sister and me around, talking to the villagers, asking how they were. I managed to make some friends, too: with Armin Arlert, one of the top students in the local school who was three years older than I was, Mikasa Ackerman, a hunter’s daughter a year older than me, and Krista Renz, Armin’s half-sister, who was the oldest amongst them yet the shortest. I played with them for a bit, and while I was comfortable with Armin and Krista, Mikasa was silent a lot and I didn’t really want to set her off, but she seemed okay.

It was then I saw him.

He didn’t look so impressive, to be honest. He was just the outcast, the boy with two-toned hair, the boy with the long face (literally and figuratively), the anti-social one.

“Hey,” I had asked Armin. I motioned to the boy. “Who’s that?” Mikasa answered for him. “That’s Jean. He’s the same age as you. He doesn’t like talking to us, and he’s always shouting at Eren even if he’s older than he is,” she said. I nodded. Eren was the son of one of the cooks; I had talked to him before. He was two years older than me, and he did talk to me about some guy he didn’t like so much, and I figured it was Jean. 

“Jszhan.” His named rolled off my tongue smoothly; I liked it. “I’m gonna go say hi,” I told them. Armin shrugged. “Your choice, Marco,” he said, as if it was the last thing I wanted to do.

I made friends easily, why would this one be any difficult?

I tapped him on the shoulder. “What do you want?” he grumbled, facing me.

All I could think at that time was something so ridiculous I still feel embarrassed to this day about it.

His eyes were so pretty, and so was he.

He didn’t look like much then, but enough to tell that he was going to look good once he grew up. I could tell. I stuck my hand out. “I’m Marco,” I told him. He squinted at me, and then frowned. “Aren’t you the prince?” he asked. I nodded, feeling awkward that he hadn’t taken my hand. He snorted, and looked away. “Did Eren put you up to this?” he muttered. I lowered my hand and sat down beside him. “No, Eren didn’t. I saw you and thought you’d make a great friend, that’s all,” I admitted. He whipped back to look at me.

“Are—are you joking?” he stuttered, a light flush covering his cheeks. _Wow, he’s cute,_ I thought. I nodded, smiling. “No, I just thought you needed some, after what happened. Your house got hit, right?”

He blinked and looked down. “Yeah. My dad didn’t make it out in time,” he mumbled, sniffing. I widened my eyes and hugged him. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry…” Surprisingly, he didn’t push me away, but he didn’t hug me back either, so I took the liberty of pulling away. I looked at him, his eyes a bit red and nose runny. But he had a slight grin on his face.

“You’re okay. I like you,” he told me.

And that’s how I became friends with the world’s most impulsive, brash, rude, profane, messy, clumsy, and not-so-much-of-a-man-than-he-thinks guy. But I didn’t regret any of it.

We spent the next few days playing around in the castle gardens. I even introduced him to Ymir, but I could see that they were far from being friends. She was out practicing her shooting when Jean stole her bow from under her nose.

She was not amused and long story short Jean never neared the well by the barn ever again.

His mom got a job as one of the laundry-women, and my parents liked Jean, so we became best friends and spent all of our time together.

But then a year later, after all the attacks had died down, the rebels attacked again, but this time we weren’t prepared for their raid on the castle.

There were a lot of casualties, most coming from the kitchen staff. Ymir had gotten a few scrapes and even a split lip from fighting off an attacker, but other than that she was fine.

“Jean?” I shouted, making my way around the billowing blankets hanging from the clotheslines in the laundry room. “Jean!”

I saw him kneeling down by a body, which I could only assume was his mother’s. There was blood staining her uniform where her heart was, and she was limp and lifeless.

Jean was staring at her, dumbstruck, silent tears rolling down his face. “Jean, we have to go! It’s not sa—” “They killed her.”

I stopped and faced him. “Huh? Jean, what’re you—” “I saw it, Marco. I-I heard shouting, and my mom coming to get me, and-and she told me to stay behind the wall, and not to follow her until she said so, and—I still remember it: she called out to me to run, and then—th-the asshole has the fucking heart to kill _my own mother_ —” He broke down in tears, clutching his mother’s hand as if it were a lifeline.

Her eyes were still open.

I stared at him, and I knelt down and hugged him, and this time he hugged me back.

“MARCO!” I heard a yell coming from behind me, the voice belonging to Commander Erwin. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with—” “I couldn’t leave Jean behind, Erwin!” I told him. Jean looked at me, his face messy from crying. “Y-You came back for me?” he stuttered. I nodded. “Well, duh! You’re my best friend!” I took his hand and stood up, and so did he. Erwin blinked, and then huffed. “You had your mother worried, Marco!” he scolded me. He sighed and sheathed his sword. “Anyways, you go take your friend and run to the nearest safe room, the one by the kitchens,” he instructed. I grinned. It was my favorite place.

Cannons boomed and shot off into the distance, Jean squeaking in surprise. Erwin motioned us away. “GO! HURRY!”

I led Jean down to the safe room, running my hand down the kitchens’ doorframe and pulling the latch. The door slid open, and I led Jean down the stairs. The door slid closed behind us.

We made our way down the stairs slowly, the silence broken only by Jean’s sniffs or the crackles of the torches on the walls.

We finally made it.

The safe room was a room deep underground, and depending on which safe room it was it could contain one to five beds, and it also had a water pump and some blankets and first aid supplies. In our case, the safe room only had one bed, but it was big enough that we could both fit on it.

I rummaged around and found some sweets in a pouch, which I hid there in case.

I offered some to Jean, but he didn’t take any.

It was silent, until Jean said something I didn’t expect him to say.

“I’m enlisting in the knight force,” he told me. I faced him, shock on my face. “W-What?” I stuttered. “Are you sure—” “Yes, I am,” he said, his voice cold. “I want to make sure what happened to my mother and father doesn’t happen to anybody else.”

And with that, I knew that I had lost him.

An hour later, I had fallen asleep, with Jean still up. The guards found us and brought us back into the castle; my mother was fussing over me and Jean was hanging around even though he didn’t have any need to. He didn’t have a home anymore, since his mom was the one with the job, not him.

The knight force took heavy blows, and a lot of casualties were taken. Knights had to be trained for three years, and after that they’d still have a lot of battles to fight. They get a break to go back home to their families before going back to the force, though.

They took in cadets at any age, as long as you were fit enough, it was okay. If you got seriously injured during training, it was up to you whether to continue or not. Most of the time, they’d stop because the risk wasn’t worth taking. But I knew that Jean would stop at nothing to avenge his mother and his father as well.

Two weeks after the raid, he packed his bags and left, but not without promising me something. “After I’m done training, I’ll come back for you and we can go and adventure together, with me protecting you from harm this time,” he said confidently. He sat down in the cart full of new recruits as well, and it drove off.

He was just thirteen years old, too young to be scarred. And yet his words were so full of devotion.

I waited for three years to pass, with Armin eventually becoming my tutor. He became my sole friend, well, besides Ymir, though. But she was always out hunting and whenever there was a ball or a formal event she tended to avoid going.

Armin didn’t ask about Jean. I respected that.

I hoped Jean’d come back. But over time, the hope was shrinking.

But once three years passed and I saw the cart of newly-appointed knights come back, I asked one of them where Jean was.

“Oh, him? He graduated in the top ten and was granted a place in the knights’ board. He’s off in the next kingdom discussing alliance with Commander Smith,” was his response.

After that, I knew it was hopeless. I really had lost Jean Kirschtein.

I stopped hoping—or, I thought I did.

 

///// **three years later** /////

 

The sunlight flooded through my windows, the harshness of the light making its way through my eyelids. I blinked and turned away, groaning and burrowing deeper into the covers. I had no classes today, simply because today was my birthday. Yay for me.

Luckily, it was also my sister Ymir’s birthday, with us being twins. So we both have a day off, until tonight when the ball would be held in honor of our birthday. It was a tradition, and with us being of age to marry, all of the eligible males and females would line up in front of us and we’d meet them and chat a bit before they’d leave to go eat dinner. After, we’d dance with some of them and et cetera et cetera until the ball ended. I didn’t really like any of them, mostly because I didn’t like girls.

Yes, I, Marco Bodt, the prince of all of Trost, was gay.

Well, so was Ymir, but so far only both of us knew the other’s secret. In thanks for that, every year while the lords and ladies and other guests would be eating dinner, Ymir and I’d be sitting at the long banquet table with our parents watching from the balcony above us, and we’d exchange our thoughts about the people we’ve met. “Lord Mobilt seemed nice…” “Ugh, no he wasn’t. He was all nervous and shit. What about Lady Mina?” “She was a bit too flirty, and she smelled like wine.” “Lady Petra?” “She was very nice, but a bit too nice. She’d be too nice for your mean-ness.” “Ouch, Marco.”

It was a great advantage, but none of them seemed to be gay. Not that I minded, but it’d be nice to be in a relationship at least once, right?

I stayed in bed for at least another hour, and when I just couldn’t fall asleep anymore, I pushed off the covers and sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Happy birthday, Marco,” I told myself. I shifted to get off the bed, pushing my slippers onto my feet and patting my hair flat, not that it helped. I put on a robe and shuffled my way out the door, drowsy and informal. But it was my birthday and I didn’t care.

I made my way to Ymir’s room and knocked. “YMIR, HEY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” I shouted, and I heard a loud thump, and then a groan. “WHAT THE HELL, MARCO!” I heard her shout back. I snickered and ran away before she could catch up. She still isn’t over me being the elder twin.

I skipped downstairs, passing through the kitchens. “Happy birthday, Marco me boy!” I heard Mike greet me. I looked up to see him, his hair covering his eyes. I smiled. “Thanks Mike!” I weaved in through the cooks and maids, who were cooking for the ball. “Hey Markie, happy birthday!” Sasha, a cook around a year older than me, said. She did eat a lot, and was mostly the cause of food disappearing than the rats were. But she was such a great cook; it’d be a loss to relieve her of duty. “Thanks, Sasha,” I replied. “Are you making my cake?”

She shoved me away. “No! No peeking! You’ll have to wait and see,” she said mischievously. I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Good luck!” “Thanks, your Highness!”

I met more cooks: Gunter, Erd, Hannah, Carla, and Reiner. Carla was Eren’s mom, and she was like a second mother besides my own.

I also met some of the servants: Auruo, Thomas, and Annie, even if she did scare me a bit like Mikasa did. She did greet me, though, so she can’t be that bad.

I made my way to the dining hall, where my parents were waiting. They were dressed to impress in their royal garments, and compared to me, they looked infinitely better.

“Morning,” I told them, and they both looked up at me. They were used to me dressing up like this anyways, so they didn’t scold me or anything. My dad tries to make me dress up in more formal wear, but my mom discourages him. I sat down at the table, and soon I heard thumping footsteps. “MOM, MARCO MADE ME FALL OUT OF BED!” Ymir yelled, pointing at me. I glared at her. “Not my fault you were hanging over the edge of the bed,” I replied flatly, piling eggs and bread and cheese on my plate. My mom tsk’ed at both of us. “Now, now, it’s your birthday, you should not be fighting,” she reprimanded. Dad nodded. “At this rate you brats are going to be bringing the roof down on us with how loud you’re shouting.”

Ymir groaned and massaged her temples with her thumb and index finger. She was dressed in hunting gear. “I’m going hunting,” she told us, as if it wasn’t obvious. “Eat first, dear,” my mom told her, but she shook her head. “I have food in the stables. I’ll ride Thunder into the forest and go eat breakfast there. I’ll go hunting for more wild boars and maybe some squirrel meat,” she continued. “Mike and Erd have been nagging me to go get some all week.”

My dad nodded. “Go then. Be free before the ball tonight.” He understood. I was grateful.

She left quickly, heading downstairs to the stables. She and Eren got along really well, because they both bonded over their hate of— I stopped myself and continued eating. My mom cleared her throat. “So, have any young ladies managed to catch your attention yet?” she asked. I shook my head, eating some toast. “None of them look interesting,” I said truthfully, and she hummed in thought. “Maybe we should open up to some of the villagers. Should we, Levi?” she wondered, asking my dad. My dad shrugged. “Up to you, Hanji. If you want Marco to marry off to one of the villagers, make sure she’s hygienic and doesn’t take too long shitting.”

My dad also made very descriptive poop jokes at very inappropriate times. I choked on the cheese and pushed my plate away. I suddenly didn’t feel so hungry. Mom stood and brushed off her dress. “Well, I’m off to meet Commander Erwin about war strategies. Levi, are you coming?” she offered. He grunted in approval. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t shit yourself.” He stood up, wiping the table after himself. He was such a clean freak, and luckily none of it rubbed onto us.

They both left, with mom telling me that I could go ride Lightning alongside Ymir and go hunting with her, but it was never my strong suit. I’d rather stay in my room huddled under the covers and read all day. I still had to finish reading the last book in this trilogy, and it was just getting to the good part.

“And don’t you dare stay in your room all day. Go to the town square with Armin or Eren.”

Ah, yes, the one statement that crushed my hopes for the day.

I groaned but stood up and headed for my room to get dressed. Armin spent his time with Krista, and they lived in town, so I could go visit them with Eren and maybe ask Mikasa to go with us. We’d just stroll around and laugh and buy baked goods and buy some flowers for Mikasa’s dad and Armin’s parents and play around in the meadows. The problem was I had to wear this ridiculous cloak to prevent the villagers from fawning over ‘the prized Prince of the south.’

The cloak was a simple forest green, and it came up to my waist. There was a hood, and there was a clip that came across my chest to the lock on the other side. I loved the cloak, but I wish I didn’t have to always wear it.

I dressed in some black pants and a blue tunic, fastening my belt with a scabbard for self-defense. I slung my satchel across my body, and it contained a flask for water, the book I’ve been planning to read, some cake wrapped in paper, my journal, as well as a pot of ink and my favorite quill.

I made my way downstairs to the stables to find Eren. If he was available, he’d be spending all his time tending the horses. He did like them, even if he used horse-face to insult—I stopped myself again. _If he’s been thinking about you he’d have visited or sent a letter by now,_ I thought. _It’s been six years._ I skipped downstairs, more servants greeting me happy birthday. I felt happy that they treated me like family instead of as royalty. I’ve been with most of these people all my life, so they _were_ like family, in a sense.

I put on the cloak, but not the hood. The stables were quiet save for the whinnies and neighing of the horses. “Eren?” I called out. The brunette stumbled out, along with one person I meant to visit. “Armin?”

The blonde smiled nervously. “Hi, Marco. Oh, uh, happy birthday!” he said, walking up to me and patting me on the back. I blinked and looked at the both of them, confused. “I thought you had a day off?” I asked him. He chuckled. “I came to visit Eren. We were going to ask you if you wanted to go to town so we could buy you some presents,” he replied, securing his hair into a messy ponytail. “Oh,” was my smooth response. Eren coughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. But it seems that you were about to ask us the same thing!” he observed. I smiled and put on my hood. “So, are we going or not?” I asked.

We walked out via the secret passage and not the drawbridge, partly because it took too long for the bridge to be lowered, partly because the secret passage led directly into town, unlike the drawbridge path wherein you still had to walk a few ways before you reached the town. And come on, admit it, the secret passage was way cooler.

It led to a trapdoor in the back of Mike’s old house, and he didn’t mind us passing in and out of there, so it was fine. I climbed up the stairs and pushed open the trapdoor, surprising Mrs. Zacharius. “Hi, ma’am,” I greeted, stepping out. “Sorry for the inconvenience.” The three of us climbed out as she shook her head and grinned. “It’s your birthday, Marco dear! It’s fine,” she assured us. “Are you and Armin and Eren headed to the town square?” I nodded and headed for the door. “Thanks again, Mrs. Zacharius!”

The three of us exited the house and breathed in the fresh air. “I miss being here,” I admitted. “I was always busy with paperwork & being tutored—no offense, Armin,” I told him. He shook his head. “None taken. I did need a break after all,” he said. We walked towards Armin’s house, where he and Krista lived together. His parents lived in Stohess, but they visited once in a while. Armin knocked on the door of the house: it was a simple one-floor cobblestone house, with a polished wood roof. It was their own and they didn’t need to pay rent for it.

Besides, if they did have to pay rent for it, they’d be able to afford it since besides Armin’s tutoring job, Krista also tutors Ymir. I guess that’s where he got his intelligence, since he and Krista were always so close. Krista answered the door, already in a pastel yellow dress meant for going out. “Oh hi, Armin! I see you got Marco to go out with you,” she said, having to look up at me. I chuckled. “I was planning to go out originally, and I was going to bring Eren but he and Armin were already together when I came to the stables,” I explained. Krista raised an eyebrow and stared at Armin. “You told me—” She stopped herself and shook her head. “Never mind.” She grabbed her cloak and draped it over her shoulders before clipping it in place in the middle. “Mikasa’s out hunting with Ymir,” she told us. We started walking towards the bakery. “How’d you know?” I asked, curious. She blushed and turned away. “Sh-She passed by to give me her homework.” Huh.

I didn’t press her any more.

The town was bustling with activity as word of commoners and villagers being allowed to contest for Ymir’s and my own hand spread like wildfire. All the girls were crowding the dress shop, each one leaving with a new well-tailored dress. I should know, since Hitch is the best seamstress and dressmaker in the kingdom. She even made my cloak, and I’ve been using it for around five years now. She caught sight of me through the shop window, sending me a wink and mouthing “Happy birthday” before she turned her attention back to the hoard of customers.

The bakery was conveniently placed in the middle of town with all the other shops surrounding the large stone fountain that’s been in the kingdom for about fifty years now. Ymir and I used to splash around in it when we were little, each time Mom would come and take us to the bakery. That’s how I met Connie.

Connie’s the baker’s son, who now runs the bakery ever since his dad retired. He’s two years older than me, and we’ve been friends ever since. I introduced him to all the others, as well as Sasha since she was once the cook’s daughter before she was one. She hit it off with Connie and now they’re engaged and looking to be married in four months. Honestly, I love them, but sometimes they can get on my nerves.

We stepped in, the bells hanging by the door tinkling. Connie turned to face us, almost all of his face and neck covered in flour or some other powdery substance. “Marco!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in a while, man! It’s good to see you.” He stepped out from behind the counter and hugged me, getting white dust on my cloak and pants. “Eurgh,” I said, pushing my hood back and brushing off the dust. He laughed and looked at the rest. “And you guys! I haven’t seen you all in forever.” Krista smiled. “Yeah, well, being the tutors of the prince and princess sure tire you out,” she said. Connie grinned. “You and Armin are super smart, girlie. No wonder. And is Eren still the eternal stable boy?” he teased. Eren groaned and glared at him. “Shut it Connie.”

Connie went back behind the counter. “So, what’re you guys doing here?” he asked. “You here to buy some of my lemon tarts for the birthday boy?” My eyes lit up as I looked at my friends. “Please? Connie makes the best in town,” I pleaded. “Besides, it’s my birthday!” Krista giggled and pulled a small pouch from a pocket in her dress. “How much for six tarts?” “Twenty-one coins.”

She got out twenty-one coins exactly and handed them to Connie, who in turn gave her the tarts wrapped in some paper. “We’ll eat this at the meadow,” she announced, giving me the tarts to place in my bag. Eren tilted his head. “Why six tarts?” he wondered. Krista blinked and smiled a bit. “For Ymir and Mikasa. They’re both coming with us later. For now, let’s go stroll around, shall we? I think Armin needed a new shirt.”

So after waving goodbye to Connie (who’d be at the ball tonight, since he and Sasha’d be baking together for my cake), we strolled around town, laughing at some of the shenanigans happening between villagers and going shopping since they did want to give gifts to me. They all bought me new shoes (even the new ones out that Marlo made, and they were extremely expensive that I almost didn’t want Armin to buy them, but he insisted) and Armin and Eren went together to buy new shirts, so I accompanied Krista to the back of Hitch’s shop. I knocked. “Hitch?” I called out. A few shuffling and thumps and the door opened to reveal the girl, her hair frazzled and blue dress creased. “Hey Marco, hi Krista,” she greeted. “You need a new dress?”

Krista nodded. “I’m attending the ball tonight, and this is the only dress I have for going out. And as you can see, I’m… already wearing it, so…,” she trailed off. Hitch nodded, a huge smile on her face. “Well, lucky for you! I have a nice pink dress that’s been waiting for an owner. Marco, wait here, m’kay?” she ordered. She tugged Krista along by her wrist, and the door shut behind them. _Great,_ I thought. _I’m here alone with no one. I should probably just wait and nibble on that cake I brought._

I got out the cake, unwrapping it and biting a bit off. I wasn’t lying when I said Sasha was a good cook. She really was, and this bit of heaven proved it. I hummed in delight before taking another bite.

Suddenly the thumping of horses and the squeaking of wheels on dirt reached my ears, and I stepped out of the road in time for them to pass. The knights had come back from allying with Shiganshina, a kingdom not so far from here. They’d been there for around a year now.

They may have been knights, but they were still a boisterous as boys. They were laughing and joking and making crude gestures. I smiled to myself. It was nice to see that they were enjoying themselves despite the war against the rebels. _Wait,_ a small voice in the back of my head said. _If they’re back, does it mean_ —? I shook my head. _No. He’s not there. He probably doesn’t even remember me._

I avoided looking at them, continuing to eat my cake. I didn’t need him.

“And voila!” I heard Hitch’s voice and I turned around to see Krista in a rather dressy pink gown that was a bit close-fitting, with a spread collar. It was quite modest, and the skirt had a chiffon covering and it came from her waist down to her feet, covering it. She looked very pretty in it, and I was sure some of the young lords meant to capture Ymir’s heart would be trying to do that to Krista instead.

“Wow, Krista! You look amazing,” I said sincerely. She flushed red and held her hands behind her back shyly. “Thanks, Marco,” she said gratefully. “Hitch, can you wrap this please? And how much—” Hitch shook her head. “No need, dear. You have a special discount: it’s 100% off!” she said proudly. “It’s enough I make tunics for Marco here.”

I rolled my eyes and left them to their devices for Krista to change back into her yellow dress and for Hitch to wrap up the pink gown.

After that, we met up with Eren and Armin by the outskirts of town, where only a few people lived. And all of them were either family or the castle staff themselves who lived there, so I was free to remove my cloak. I breathed in the smell of dew on grass in the meadow and lay down in the grass. “I miss this so much,” I sighed. Armin chuckled. “So do I.”

Soon enough, Ymir and Mikasa came out of the forest, with Ymir securing Thunder at the base of a tree. They ran towards us, with Ymir messing up Krista’s hair affectionately. I smiled at them. Mikasa, on the other hand, started nagging Eren, who of course starting fighting with her, and Armin was left to stop Eren.

I was alone.

Okay, well—I’ll admit, I did miss Jean. A lot, in fact. I was closer with him than anyone else, even Ymir or Armin. I wished he’d come back, every night. I missed his voice, his soft hair, his wonderful eyes; I missed his Jean-ness so much it made my heart ache.

“Marco, the tarts?” I heard Ymir. I rolled my eyes and tossed her my bag. I heard her gasp rather dramatically. “MARCO, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” she shrieked. I sat up and looked back at her. She was staring at my bag, which lay at her feet. She looked scandalized.

“Why?” I asked, confused. She glared at me. “I DIDN’T CATCH YOUR BAG, YOU IDIOT. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?” I must’ve had this clueless look on my face, because she groaned and knelt in front of the bag. “THE TARTS ARE DESTROYED BECAUSE OF YOU!” she shouted accusingly.

I widened my eyes and stood up slowly. “I—what?” I said disbelievingly. Ymir stood and looked up at me. “I didn’t catch the tarts, and now they’re cracked, you idiot,” she muttered angrily.

 

 

I was in my room, waiting for Mom to call me to go down for the ceremony. I was wearing a blue waistcoat with black pants and matching shoes, with a gold cord coming down from my shoulder to my belt and matching gold buttons. My hair was slicked back thanks to Mikasa, because she thought I needed to look a bit more dashing. Truth be told, I only ever wanted to look dashing for Jean.

I didn’t dare lie down, so I was sitting at my desk, hunched over my journal, recording everything that happened today. I might’ve been scribbling down unimportant stuff; because once I read it again I realized I didn’t even reach the meadow part yet. (I might’ve been writing about Jean, but you don’t need to know.)

Soft knocks erupted from the door, and it opened. It was my mom. “Marco, dear, it’s time,” she said. I nodded and she closed the door. I took a deep breath and stood up. I did do this before, and even though I had practice earlier I was still a bit nervous.

I exited my room, and I saw Ymir step out as well. I almost didn’t recognize her.

Her dress was a lighter shade of blue than mine, and like Krista’s, it was close-fitting but the hem trailed behind her a bit. The sleeves were a ¾ kind and were laced with some white trim. The collar was also laced with white trim, except it was made of chiffon. The front of it had been laced with gold laces. The skirt was dappled with gold swirls, and she held a matching fan in her hand. But the biggest surprise was her hair.

It didn’t look like her regular, unkempt, rough hair at all. It was smooth and shiny and twisted into an elegant bun with pearl pins stuck in it. Her face was done with almost little to no make-up, thanks to Krista doing it for her. Despite her usually grumpy demeanor, she looked rather pretty actually. Not that she wasn’t, but the make-up really defined it.

She glared at me, head held high. “Are you gonna stare or walk with me, Freckled Jesus?” she hissed. I blinked before smiling. “You’re just grumpy you have to be all dressed up,” I teased, holding my arm out. “Shall we, Freckled Satan?” She scoffed, but took my arm anyways. “Fine, fine. But you got to admit, the nickname suits you and me rather well.” “It does, actually.”

We made our way to the grand staircase that led to the ballroom, and we could hear the soft chatter and clinks of glasses. We heard Keith, the herald, clear his throat as the trumpets blared. “Presenting, royal Highnesses, Alexandria Ymir Bodt, princess of Trost, and her brother, Marco Gabriel Bodt, prince of Trost!” His voice rang throughout the hall as we made our way down the stairs, all the other royals and villagers who managed to make it clapping politely.

I spotted Krista and Armin in the crowd, but no sign of Eren. I did see Mikasa in an oddly out-of-place simple red and black sleeveless dress, but it suited her well and she made it look fancy nevertheless. She didn’t have the scarf she usually wore around her neck, which was weird.

Ymir and I smiled at them, like we were happy to do this. We were, really, but just not with all the people watching. For all I know Ymir’d just twirl around in her dress and pretend to be a proper one and I’d just slip and slide over the waxed floors and Ymir would join me, her dress trailing behind her. And then dad would catch us and tell us off and we’d not take it seriously, and just keep doing what we were doing, like before.

When was the last time we did that? Oh, yeah. Never.

We made our way to the thrones under the balcony where we were supposed to sit and talk to the people who’d approach us. Right now there was a table in front, because dinner came first. Okay, sometimes I am bored by this, but I live with people who put dinner first. I love them.

Hannah and Annie came out, carrying trays of food to plop down at our table while the other guests lined up at the buffet table. Hannah smiled at us, and even Annie softened to greet Ymir “Happy birthday”. We thanked the both of them and started eating. We had small plates of salad each, with a bowl of vinaigrette for dressing between the both of us. I got to it first, sneaking a tongue-out at Ymir while she tried to pretend to look proper even though she was practically glaring at me by the time I gave the bowl to her a bit more than half-empty.

After a few, Gunter came out with a plate of roast chicken and some potatoes on the side, and some grilled beef with some buttered vegetables. Of course, Ymir got to both of them before I did, and it was her turn to sneak a tongue-out at me.

After that, we were pretty full already, but then Sasha and Connie came out, wheeling in a three-tier cake frosted with chocolate flowers and a “Happy Birthday, Your Highnesses!” written on the front. They both bowed at the applause for them, and they left as soon as they came. I stood and took the knife, cutting myself a slice. I did so for Ymir, who looked a bit miffed I did it for her. “It’s called being a gentleman, sis,” I told her. She snorted and stuck a piece of cake in her mouth. “Whatever,” she said with food in her mouth. I saw Krista giggle at Ymir.

Soon afterwards everyone’s gotten their fill, Auruo and Mike bringing out the table, Keith took his place by us and announced for all the young lords, ladies, and the villagers to line up in order for them to try and entertain us in a way that may intrigue us or whatever. It would never work, because as aforementioned, I’m as straight as a curved line.

That meaning, I’m not.

I saw Krista and Mikasa line up, as well as Armin. I saw Hitch on one of the tables, but she was busy eating cream puffs. Armin was in the green button-up he wore earlier, along with black pants with a white stripe down the side. He also wore the leather shoes I gave him as a birthday present last year, along with a grey vest. He looked really cute, to be honest. But I didn’t like him in that way.

I caught sight of some of the knights guarding the entrances and I snuck glances at them to see if _he_ was one of them. No success so far.

Keith left, leaving us alone. Ymir’s line moved faster than mine, because I actually was nice and wanted to be friends with most of them. I saw Mina Carolina, a daughter of a duke; Nanaba, one of Connie’s assistants in the bakery who I’ve come to like (although she did admit to me that she liked Mike, she came to greet me); Petra Ral, a princess from one of the northern kingdoms (who I’ve written letters to); Rico Brzenka, the lady who runs the flower shop across from Connie’s bakery; and a lot more people and villagers I’ve never met but were really polite and nice.

On Ymir’s side, I noticed Lord Mobilt, who I’m rather good friends with; Daz, one of the commoners (who was a bit too rude), Lord Nac Tius, son of a king in the western regions, Bertoldt Hoover, one of the commoners I’ve seen around but never had a chance to talk to; and even one knight named Reiner Braun, and Ymir seemed to take a liking to his sense of humor. She did talk to Armin, talking up a bit more time than usual, but not so.

None of the guys she met hit me with interest, so I knew this was a failed attempt. After most of the people had introduced themselves, the band started playing some music and one by one, couples started spilling out onto the dance floor. Sometimes I wondered if the ball was meant for other people to find their significant other rather than Ymir and I. Mikasa was dancing with Armin, despite the height difference; Connie and Sasha were mucking around; Hitch and Marlo were arguing whilst dancing, but it didn’t seem like a serious fight; and my mom and dad were dancing around, but my dad didn’t seem too interested (but deep, deep, waaaay deep down I knew he was).

Krista approached me and bowed. “May I have this dance, your Highness?” she asked politely. I laughed. “Of course, dear lady,” I replied, extending my arm for her to take, and she did. I led her to the middle of the crowd and put a hand on her waist, as she placed her hand on my shoulder. I took her hand in my left, and I led her around, waltzing to the nice music. “So, how’s the ball going? Find anyone?” she asked. I shook my head. “No, not yet. I’ve been with them all my life, but I’ve never really found them interesting from the start,” I told her. She smiled at me. “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone, Marco! It just takes time,” she said. _I already found him,_ I wanted to tell her. _The problem is he’s been silent for six years and probably doesn’t remember I exist._

I took Krista few more rounds, chatting. I could see some of the girls glaring at her, but I let it pass. I turned to find Ymir dancing with that Reiner fellow, and while I could see them getting along, Ymir wasn’t up for grabs by a man.

I snuck glances at the knights occasionally, and then— _holy mother of freckled Jesus—_ I spotted Jean.

He looked older (duh, Marco, obviously), and his undercut was a bit darker than I remembered. He looked more muscular and more mature, and he looked so responsible standing there and _oh God he looked so hot I cannot describe him anymore because I’d probably alert Little Marco and wow that’s awkward._

He turned to look at me (holy crap my heart started doing jumping jacks) and he smiled at me. _Oh god I missed his smile so much._

“Hey, Krista, can I—?” “Hey, Krista, could I cut in?” I heard Hitch, and sure enough I saw her take Krista’s place. “So, how’s it going Marco?” she asked cheerily. She was in a green dress with white ruffles, and it looked really nice on her but I was focused on talking to Jean. “Uh, Hitch, um, it’s going well, actually, er—I’m sorry, but, um—I need to—” I looked for Jean again, but he wasn’t there.

Hitch looked confused and flicked her eyes over to where I was looking. “Why, Marco? Is there something wrong?” she asked, worried. I looked back at her and shook my head. “No, nothing, I just—I thought I saw my friend from before. No biggie,” I lied, a grin plastered on my face.

So I continued dancing with her, and she regaled me with stories of her tailoring mishaps or wacky customers, and I loved each and every one of them, honestly, but all I could think of was if I really did see Jean or maybe it was a hallucination because I hoped too much? I don’t know myself.

By the time the ball was over, the only people who remained were my friends, with Ymir finally letting her hair down and Armin having his vest unbuttoned. We hung out for a while, slip-sliding on the floor, before Dad came and told us to sleep because “It’s the middle of the fucking night, go to bed you brats.” So there I was, sitting on my bed, reading the book in my pajamas. I just couldn’t go to sleep, but I knew I had to. I reduced the lantern’s flame and put the book on my desk before burrowing in the blankets and getting comfortable, but how could I sleep when all I could think of was Jean?

How do I describe Jean Kirschtein?

He’s indescribable with words, because I found myself speechless each time I thought of him.

_God, Marco, that’s so cheesy._ I giggled to myself.

I found myself drifting off to sleep when a loud _plik_ came from my window. My eyes blinked open and I sat up to see stones hitting the glass. “Psst,” I heard from below. I was pissed. I was about to sleep then this asshole just shows up out of nowhere? I stood up and opened the window. “Wha—” A stone hit my face, knocking me back. “Oh, shit, sorry Marco,” the voice apologized. I blinked and looked out, and lo and behold—it was Jean.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said. I tried to ignore the butterflies mauling my stomach because they’d make me mess up. He looked up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “C-Can I talk to you? Now? Here?” he asked. “It’s important,” he added. _Oh wow, his voice is so hot and deep and oh my—_ I leaned on the window. “You do realize that the rebels could attack and raid the castle again at any time, right?”

He blushed and seemed to be at a loss for words. “Uh, I—um, yes, but I—” I rolled my eyes. “So, it’s either I stay here in the safety of my room, or go down there with the guy who left saying he’d stay in touch and promised to do so but never even kept the promise?” I told him. He blinked and looked embarrassed, running his hand through his hair. “Y-Yeah… about that…,” he stuttered.

I sighed. “I’ll be down soon,” I told him, trying to sound exasperated. His face lit up and he smiled at me. “Thanks, Marco!”

I felt my heart leap in my chest as I closed the window. I made him smile, and oh God I missed doing that.

Just then, I realized what I had agreed to.

_Marco, what the hell are you doing?_

**Author's Note:**

> cliffhanger muehuehue


End file.
